Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 164533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
He took a step forward as though to embrace me just as my cousins had. I flinched a little and shuffled back, all skittish. Rhys was a big guy, much bigger than Derek or Tristan. Jesse had been a big guy, too, and something about their similarity in size caused a tendril of fear to take hold as I gripped the edge of the side table.
Rhys stilled, then frowned, taking me in again. His eyes ran over me, brows drawn like he was trying to solve a puzzle. I couldn’t stand the intense inspection and took several more steps away, heading back in the direction of the dining room.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” I mumbled. “You’re here to eat, right?”
“Right,” he said, still frowning as I hurried away from him.
“Rhys is here,” I said as I re-entered the dining room. Nuala’s eyes immediately found mine, a look of apology in them as she realised she’d failed to mention he was still very much a part of their lives. I retook my seat, trying to focus on the heady aroma of the stew Jo had made. It smelled delicious. I grabbed a piece of bread, my head down as I buttered it. I was aware of Rhys taking a seat on the opposite side of the table that was thankfully not directly across from me. Derek asked him how things were at the hotel that day.
Wait a second, why was Derek asking Rhys about the hotel?
“It was quiet enough. Nothing big to report,” Rhys replied, grabbing a large hunk of bread, too. His eyes flicked to mine, catching me looking at him, and I anxiously lowered my gaze. A minute or two went by before I glanced his way again, and my chest lurched because his eyes were still on me, filled with curiosity and interest. A little confusion, too. It was understandable. My personality had changed over the years. I’d gone from a confident, well-adjusted girl with a good sense of humour to an anxious, jumpy mess who couldn’t accept friendly hugs from men who bore even a fleeting resemblance to her former husband.
The conversation drifted over me, and I knew Rhys was studying me from time to time as I dug into my stew. My skin prickled in awareness. Aunt Jo’s cooking was just as delicious as I remembered, especially since I hadn’t eaten a whole lot in the day and a half since I’d landed.
“It’ll be just like old times for the two of you,” Uncle Padraig said, drawing my attention.
“Pardon?” I asked, embarrassed that I’d been too wrapped up in my feelings and anxiety over seeing Rhys for the first time in so many years to listen to what was being said.
“You and Rhys,” my uncle replied, and my eyes instantly went to the man in question. He was already looking at me, his expression unreadable. “I said it’ll be like old times. Remember when you worked for me at the hotel when you came to stay that summer? You and Rhys were both working there in the kitchen, and now, you’ll both be at the city hotel. Rhys is my head of security. The accounting office is just across the hall from his.”
I blinked, my pulse ratcheting up a notch. So, that was why Derek had asked him about the hotel. Rhys Doyle, the boy, now man, who I’d lost my virginity to and whom I’d had all my formative sexual experiences with, was going to be working in the office across the hall from me. My new office was going to be across the hall from his, and I wasn’t prepared for it. Not at all. When I’d arranged to move to Ireland after the divorce, I hadn’t factored in getting reacquainted with Rhys.
I’d simply been eager to see the Balfes, live with my aunt and uncle, and make up for lost time. I hadn’t anticipated Rhys working for my uncle, and I certainly hadn’t expected to feel such a strange mix of attraction and anxiety in his presence.
A presence it seemed I was going to be bumping into often if we were to work in the same building. No, not merely the same building, but right across the hall.
20.
Rhys
Even though I’d been aware of Charli’s impending arrival for a while, it had somehow escaped me that she’d be landing in Dublin this week. Work had been busy, and with everything going on between my ex-fiancée, Stephanie, and me, I’d lost track of things.
My engagement to the woman I’d been seeing for the last two years had been called off—on Christmas morning, no less—so I gave myself some slack for not being completely on top of things.
As far as everyone was concerned, calling off the wedding was a mutual decision, but it hadn’t been. The decision was mine and mine alone. Since we both still worked for the Balfes and shared many colleagues and friends, to allow Steph to save face, I’d agreed to tell everyone it was mutual. That we’d realised we weren’t compatible and didn’t want the same things out of life.